Dance with Darkness
by Loopylou
Summary: Lara has to battle through the Norse worlds to stop a magical dagger from bringing Hell to Earth. Updated 16 Feb 06.
1. Prologue

Dance With Darkness

Prologue

A lone streetlight burned, the only one within half a mile. The light stood in front of a dilapidated old house. The wooden boards on the front and sides of the house had once been pristine white, but through years of neglect, they had faded to a sad, lonely grey-brown. Most of the windows were covered in thick boards, and what little glass remained in the frames was grimy with dirt. The yard was overgrown with tall weeds. Vines snaked across the ground in an un-holy attempt to claim the old house as their own.

Rats had long since moved into the house and had eaten away at the walls and floor to make the nests they needed to survive the bitterly cold winters. As they bred and their numbers grew, so did the amount of holes and nests the old house held. The tired house was never silent because of the hundreds of small feet running within it's walls. Upstairs, in the attic, there were no rats. It was the one room they didn't dare breach.

The room was a pristine as the day it had been created. Plain dark blue carpet covered the large expanse of floor. The walls were painted white, which lent the room an air of sterility. Two high backed arm chairs sat facing out of the stained glass window. They were both occupied, though the spark of life that had once filled the pair of lovers sat there had long departed. The bodies were covered with dust. The only thing wrong with the room was the smell. It should have smelt musty and of decay. Instead, it smelt of the sea.

Outside, a lone figure surveyed the house from the back of her motorbike. Apparently satisfied with what she had seen, she sped away without looking back. Her long dark hair streamed out behind her like a flag in a stiff wind. She took the corner at the bottom of the street without breaking, her tires squealing as the fought for purchase on the slick road. No-one came to see what the noise was, for the few unfortunate people who still lived in the area had learned that it paid to not to hear or see what went on in their little slice of the world.

The lucky ones had long since fled the squalid neighborhood. The unlucky ones were forced to stay, through poverty or just hard luck they were tied to the neighborhood until they died. And sometimes, they were tied there after death too. For the woman on the motorbike, she had no concerns abut becoming trapped in the hellhole called Morgans borough. It had been created in the early Twenties to house the workers at a newly built mill. The mill owner, a tall, good looking, man called Justin Morgan, had given the neighborhood his name.

She wasn't planning to stay long enough to become trapped. She was there for two reasons. The first was purely selfish and self motivated. She had come to the worst part of suburbia in the state to reclaim something that had been taken from her family. The second was not so selfish. She hoped that by removing the object she was seeking, the curse would lift from the place.

In the wrong hands, the small Norse sacrificial knife drew the worst dregs of evil to it's carrier. It then turned on them and killed them, spreading out across the area like the waves on a disturbed pond. Anyone caught in the epicenter was destined to live the rest of their life in purgatory, never being able to quench the thirst that debilitated them to the point were they gave in fighting. They were locked in a never-ending cycle of pain and terror.

The two lovers in the attic of that jaded house had unleashed the evil of the blade. They had found it amongst a chest of thing gifted to them by the widow of a dead adventurer. The knife she was looking for was called the Dagger of Entropy, for it was the harbinger of evil. It had been made by the Norse gods themselves to collect all the evil in their world. It was almost as long as a short sword, with a black blade that did not reflect any light. In the hilt, there were twin black gems set into the metal of the handle. The handle never warmed. It was always cold.

Lara planed to reclaim it and put to right the wrong it had caused. She had on doubts about her own power or her place in the scheme of things. Once the dagger claimed enough souls, there would be no stopping it. It's power would grow until there was not a person in the world untouched by it's brand of evil. She felt sick at the thought. Famine would quickly spread to cover the earth. The sky would blacken and no sunlight would reach the earth. Hell would rise from it's depths to pronounce the earth it's own.

The death toll would be terrible. The suffering would be worse. The journey she would have to undertake would take her through all nine of he Norse worlds. She had to find the scattered pieces of the sheath the blade belonged in and bring them together. It would most likely kill her if she succeeded. She didn't like to think about what would happen if she failed. It was not an option.


	2. One

Chapter One

The Next Morning 

Lara brought the dark blue Jeep she'd rented to a stop outside the house. In a bag on the passenger seat, she had all the tools she would need if she were to succeed in preventing hell coming to earth. Her pistols rested on top of the black bag that held everything from hammers to chalk. She pocketed a set of lock picks, though she didn't think she would need them and after slipping on the twin holsters that were her trademark, she picked up the black bag and swung it over her shoulder. She was dressed in a white tee-top and black pants. A pair of combat boots and braided hair finished the look that was practical, yet sexy.

Crossing the over grown yard proved to be more tricky than it would normally have been. Twice, she was forced to stop while she cut thick, ropy vines from around her ankles. She swore that the had moved to grab her. A third time she stopped to look in horror at a pile of animal bones in a clearing in the middle of the yard. It wasn't visible from the street and she steered well clear of it, too wise to become it's next victim. The sight of so many dead animals in one place sobered her a little and she proceded with more caution.

After about ten minutes, she reached the front stoop. She made her way carefully up the shallow steps, trying to avoid the areas of worst rot. The front door itself was powdery with age and yielded easily to a hard kick. She paused on the threshold, not afraid to enter the room, just giving her eyes chance to adjust to the gloom after the weak sun-shine outside. Once she could see, she stepped into the room, wary of what could lay inside.

The room was empty except for a few rats which scattered in alarm as she approached. Large areas of the floor had fallen through and she was forced to proceed with great care to avoid falling through the rotting wooden floor. Twin white humps at either side of the fireplace turned out to be sofas covered in dustsheets. She frowned at them and what the meant. Someone in the house had survived the Dagger's curse long enough to cover the furniture.

She pitied their final moments. From what she'd read, the blade first turned the souls it had captured insane before killing them by draining the life force from their unresisting bodies. The length of time the draining- properly called the 'Gebo', after the Norse rune of Sacrifice, of Yielding the Sprit, depended on the person's strength of will. It could last a very long time and was horrifying for the victim.

Realising that she was wasting time, she continued through the house, not knowing the exact whereabouts of the magical item she was seeking. The next room she came to was a kitchen. The window had been smashed and had been boarded over, leaving the room in mock twilight. On the floor, in the corner of the room, she saw something that looked like a pile of rags. On closer inspection, it turned out to be a body. The rats had gnawed most of the flesh away and what little was left had decayed into almost nothing.

Lara turned with a heavy heart, feeling the loss as if she'd known the person herself. It was her family that had unleashed the power of the dagger onto the world. Her Grandfather had found it before his death. It had been stolen from the Croft manor by a band of crooks that wanted ultimate power. She had been searching for it most of her adult life, just as her father had.

She moved on, murmuring a quick prayer that she would not end up like the fellow in the room she had just left. The air had a faint, musky odour that she didn't like at all. It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't fit with the house. It was too sweet, too fresh. The wall beneath her fingers was rough and slightly damp. Each step she took made the floor creak slightly. She tread lightly, watching where she put her boot-clad feet. A fall through the old floor could mean a broken leg or worse. She couldn't afford to take the risk by rushing.

As she moved along a long, narrow hallway, it grew darker. She reached around and grabbed a lightstick from the pack on her shoulders. Flashlights were too unreliable- you never knew when the batteries might die, leaving you without light. She'd learned that lesson early and had carried lightsticks ever since. There was a flashlight in her pack, but she would save it for when she needed brighter light.

The lightstick sprang to life after she banged it on her arm. The muted green-white light it gave out was more then adequate to light up the section of hallway in front of her. The wallpaper on the walls was dark red, and had large green-brown flowers every few inches. A few feet in front of her was the first of five doors. All but two hung open. The dark brown paint had faded and cracked, giving the doors a run-down appearance.

Lara stepped into the first door and stopped dead. The floor in the room had fallen through, leaving a fifteen-foot drop to the stone cellar floor below. She swatted a thick cobweb way from her face and peered downwards. All she could see was that the cellar appeared empty from where she stood. As she watched, the cellar floor seemed to move a little. Automatically, her hands went to her hips and she pulled out her guns without taking her eyes off the floor below her. Without realising it, she leaned further over the ragged edge, placing strain on the already weak floor joists.

The floor creaked warningly, but it was already too late to do anything. The floor directly below her collapsed, sending her hurtling towards the waiting stone floor. A small gasp of shocked surprise escaped her lips as she landed, hard. Then the world went away.


	3. Two

Chapter Two

Twenty Minutes Later

She struggled back to consciousness, only aware that she was laying in some kind of cold, viscous liquid. She sat up carefully, feeling around on the back of her head until she founds the bump there. When she brought her fingers back, she was horrified to find not red, but bright green blood on them. She found her guns and stood up, hating the feel of the slimy liquid against her bare flesh. An involuntary shudder ran through her body as she looked around the room. The walls were made of roughly hewn stone blocks in various sizes. The room stunk of decay and something she couldn't name.

The floor and walls were both covered in a layer of the same liquid she had landed in, although it was thickest under the hole she had fallen through. A staircase on the far wall provided her with a way out. She crossed the room to them. With each step she took, the slime got thicker and thicker. It was like walking through glue. By the time she mounted the bottom step, he legs were burning with effort. Sweat ran down her face and stung her eyes.

The world swayed alarmingly and she was forced to sit down on the steps before she fell. She put her head between her knees, hoping to dispel the sudden wave of dizziness. All she wanted was to give in and lay back down in the slime that she had found so repulsive just moments ago. As the thought crossed her mind, she realised that it was the slime that was making her feel that was. It had entered her body by the small wound on the back of her head.

She reached into her pack and pulled out the water bottle and medi-kit she always carried. She used the water to rinse off the worst of the slime before applying iodine to the wound on her scalp, hissing as it stung. Once most of the slime had been rinsed away, she began to feel much better.

One last look around the infested room showed a workbench running the length of one wall. In a corner, there was a furnace. The rest of the room was bare. She stood and re-shouldered her pack before continuing up the rickety wooden stairs, which turned back on themselves. The door at the top opened easily under her hand and she found herself back in the hallway.

The next room she entered turned out to be a bathroom. The sink and bath had been corroded, so that in some places there was holes right through them. The same slime that she had found in the cellar also covered everything in the bathroom. She quietly backed out of the room and shut the door behind her. A feeling of unease ran through her. She didn't want to admit it, but the house was creeping her out, more so than some of the tombs she'd visited during her travels.

She opened the next door, fully prepared to meet more slime. However, to her surprise the room was clean of the dreaded substance. The room looked to be a study. There was a large desk that dominated the room, commanding attention. Lara found herself drawn to it. She sat down in the red-leather chair that stood behind the fine oak desk. There were six draws in the desk, three at each side. One by one, she opened the draws. In the last one, she found a sealed letter.

It was addressed to a Ms. Petra Lowe and it was dated 16/06/1928. The house would have been eight years old at the time the letter was written. She wondered why it had never been sent. Shrugging the thought away, she reached into her boot and pulled out the tiny, perfectly sharp knife she kept there. After cutting open the envelope and discarding it onto the desk, Lara carefully unfolded the tissue thin paper the letter had been written on. She read it out loud, unaware she was doing so.

_'My dearest Petra,' it began_

' I fear that I have uncovered something both wonderful and deadly. Last night, while looking over the building of the last house, I found a short sword. A dagger, if you will. It is purest black and always as cold as the grave. No light reflects from it. In the hilt there are two black stones, most likely Jet. I have read of a sword like this, but I never dreamed in my wildest dreams I'd ever own it. It lays in front of me on the desk as a write this letter to you , my dear.

What I both hope and fear is that this is the Dagger of Entropy. One cut is said to turn the suffer quite mad. Soon after, they die and nothing can be done to save them.

During my time in England, I was fortunate enough to stay at the Manor of Lord Croft. As you know, he has the most fascinating collection of items I have ever seen anywhere in the world. If this truly is the Dagger of Entropy, it was stolen from him some time ago.

I shall write to him at once to try and confirm my suspicions.

Yours,

Justin.'

Lara held the letter in a shaking hand. Her mind was in turmoil. The man who had built the very house she was sitting in had stayed with her family? The thought was enough to make her feel strange. She folded the letter and returned it to the envelope before slipping it into her pack. She left the room after looking around quickly. The last room along the hallway turned out to be an empty storeroom.

She stepped through the doorway carefully, wary of the house's tricks. She made it to the middle of the room without incident, then without warning, a rat launched itself at her face. It's mouth was open and in place of it's normal teeth, it had thin, needle sharp fangs. She batted it away with her arm, feeling the teeth puncture the flesh there. The bite hurt more than it should have done, and with a cry of rage, she ripped the rat off her arm. The rat's teeth raked twin bloody furrows into her arm. They stung, but she didn't care.

The rat was gathering itself for another attack. As it pounced, Lara grabbed one of her guns and shot it cleanly in the head. It fell to the floor bonelessly. Unlike some of the other creatures she had fought, this rat stayed dead. She carefully crossed the small distance between them and poked the lifeless body with the toe of her boot. With a wet pop, it exploded into nothing.

She pulled a face at the mark on the floor where the body had been, then started examining the dilapidated room for any clues. On one long wall, there was a large, dusty painting hanging. It depicted a grey looking city in the middle of a bleak winter. It seemed out of place somehow. She pulled it off the wall, quite roughly and dropped it to the floor. In the clean rectangle where it had been hanging, there was a map.

It was not a normal map, for it showed the nine Norse worlds, each with a tiny symbol engraved at their center. She traced her forefinger over it. She had just discovered how to stop the dagger bringing Hell to Earth.


	4. Three

Chapter Three

Lara reached up and ran her fingers carefully around the torn edges of the map. As she had suspected, it was not painted directly onto the wall, but onto a piece of parchment that has been nailed to the boards with uttermost care. One by one, she worked the tiny silver nails free until she had the delicate map in her hands. She was amazed by the detail on the map. It showed each world with absolute precision. She was able to easily pick out Yggdrasil, the ash tree that connected all nine worlds. She also picked out Midgard, the home of man. Each world was full of detail, so that the map was more of a portrait of the worlds than a map. She was awed by the craftsmanship.

She knelt and laid it onto the floor whilst she pulled an empty silver tube from her pack. She rolled the map and placed it inside the tube. The ends of the tube were sealed with clear plastic, which would protect the contents from harm. Clicking the ends closed, she checked them to make sure they had made a watertight seal. After slipping the tube back into her pack, she rose to her feet and left the room, now knowing her final destination. The hall was as empty as she had left it just moments before. No more mutant rats tried to attack her. The house felt different, almost as if it was readying itself for something.

She rubbed her hand along her injured arm and wondered what she had gotten herself into. An uneasy chill settled into her stomach and she suddenly felt cold. Maybe this was the job that would be the end of her. Perhaps this time, she wouldn't be able to save the world. It wasn't a pleasant thought and she tried to chase it away, but it remained firmly rooted in her mind. More than a little annoyed with herself, she frowned. _"Cut it out Lara!" _She muttered to herself in her best imitation of her finishing school's head teacher. The bad impression made her smile fleetingly. The bad feeling in her stomach dissipated slightly. The creepiness of the old house was getting to her.

At the end of the hall, she found the stairs she was looking for behind a narrow wooden door. A thick ropy cobweb blocked her way up them until she trailed the muzzle of her shotgun down the wall, freeing one end of the web. It fell to the floor in a heap. The spider that had made it came out of hiding at the destruction of his hard made home. He was as big as her hand. Each leg looked to be as thick as her fingers. She stopped, watching the spider for any nasty surprises. He scuttled back into his hiding place in the rotting wall. Lara disliked spiders, though she didn't fear them. There was something sinister about an animal with that many legs.

The stairs to the attic were narrow and turned sharply on themselves about half way up. They were dusty, and she coughed slightly as she progressed up them, for her footsteps were stirring up the dust. The carpet on the floor had once been very fine, but now it was faded to a shadow of it's former self. The brass rods that held in place had corroded and broken in places. She tread carefully, more wary that ever about the state of the floor under her booted feet. A few ominous groans marked her progress up the stairs. Each time, she stopped, hands resting on the walls as she waited to see if the floor was going to collapse under her.

The door to the attic was an impressive sight, even in an advanced state of decay. It was made from a single sheet of oak and had been engraved in exquisite detail. She stopped and brushed the worst of the dust and cobwebs from the door, trying to make out the picture. She did, and gasped in shock. It had not been engraved when the door was made, and it was not complete.

It showed a slender, longhaired woman, who Lara took to be herself, fighting against an undulating black cloud. She saw that the engraving was only just taking place on the fine surface of the wood. She reached out to touch it, changing her mind at the last minute. Her hand hung in the air, scant centimetres from the door's changing surface. She let her arm drop back to her side, mind occupied with what she was seeing.

As she watched, the details became more and more clear. The cloud advanced, only to be pushed back by the weapon her likeness wielded with utter accuracy. The weapon itself was fuzzy and indistinct, but Lara had the feeling that it was some kind of staff. As the image started to change once again, she placed her finger on the door Abruptly, with bang that made her ears ache, the ethereal image vanished. She felt an acute sense of loss as the blank wood in front of her regained it's normal appearance.

Rubbing her hand over the door, she felt a kind of charge, like left over static on the screen of a television. It made her hand tingle. The few fillings in her teeth throbbed. As suddenly as the picture had vanished, so did the feeling. The door under her fingers felt like normal wood. Whatever magic had made the picture, it was all gone now.

She took hold of the gold-coloured door handle in a shaking hand. It turned easily in her grasp. She pushed open the door and stopped dead. The room was lit by an eerie flat light that was so bright, she had to raise a hand to cover her eyes. At first, she couldn't make out where it was coming from, but as she took a step into the room she knew. And she didn't like it one bit.


	5. Four

Chapter Four

The light was coming from the dagger she was seeking- or at least part of it. Lara could only make out the shape of the blade's handle. The dark gem on the pommel was what was glowing so brightly. She couldn't look at it for more than a few seconds. Lara took a few steps into the room and stopped, studying the fragment. Even though it gave off such bright light, it didn't appear to be heating up at all. Lara made a bet with herself that when she touched the handle, it would be cool. Every uncovered inch of her skin was tingling with the strange energy the gem threw out.

Lara didn't believe that a house could remember anything that had happened in it. They were just bricks and mortar, after all. The people in the house made it what it was. In this case though, even she had to admit that there was something undeniably creepy about the old house. She had a feeling that the piece of dagger was what made the house feel so eerie. Maybe once it was gone, the horrors that happened so frequently in the neighbourhood would dissipate. Then the people who lived there would be free. She smiled wryly at her thoughts.

She realised what she had to do to collect the pieces. There were nice Norse worlds, and she'd bet that each one would hold a fragment of the dagger. She knelt down on the floor and emptied her backpack, piling items she was unlikely to need next to her. Everything else was packed back where it had come from, leaving her with plenty of room. She stood back up, swinging the backpack on with easy grace. After taking a deep breath, she was ready. What she would face on the other side was anyone guess, but she had a feeling that it wasn't going to be pleasant.

She crossed the room, manoeuvring around items that the family had left. Every step she took sent a cloud of heavy dust into the air. She sneezed and covered her face with her top. It didn't stop all of the dust, but it stopped enough. On her way to the handle, she passed the pair of dead bodies sitting in the chairs. She stopped in front of them for a moment, and studied them. Their skeletal hands were linked, each bone held in place by the tiniest piece of cartilage imaginable.

The woman- Lara could only tell by what they wore- sat on the right, her decaying face looking towards her lover. She wore a gown of dark red velvet that had disintegrated in places, dotting the bones with bits of fabric. At her feet, there was a kitchen knife. Lara bet that she had ended her life with it. The man also held a similar knife. He wore a dark suit that had endured the years better than his companion's dress. She guessed that they were Petra and Justin, though she had no way to confirm her suspicions. Knowing that it wouldn't help, Lara couldn't help but whisper a few words for the tragic pair.

She left them then, and crossed the last few feet to where the handle lay. It was still glowing, albeit not as brightly. Whatever source of power was running it was slowly diminishing. Lara took a last deep breath and grabbed hold of the handle. Before she could blink, the light flared, searing her unprotected eyes. She shut them and held on to the cool handle. She didn't see the portal opening, but she felt herself being sucked through it to land on something hard and unyielding. It knocked the air out of her lungs and sent spots dancing in front of her eyes. She sat up slowly and stared at the unbelievable sight before her.


	6. Five

Chapter Five

Lara knew that she had seen some pretty rare and wonderful sights in her life. She'd discovered ice palaces in the Himalayas and Dinosaurs in China. But those paled in comparison to the view she had laid out in front of her. It literally took her breath away. For a few minutes, all she could do was sit and stare at the glory in front of her.

The giant Ash tree, Yggdrasil, was almost directly in her eye line. Below it stood the nine Norse worlds, all linked by the tree she was facing. The very life of everything she could see was linked to the tree. If it died, so did they. It was a magical sight, both awe-inspiring and surreal. She could pick out a few of the worlds. The one that really stood out was Asgard, the protected home of the gods. She traced the Rainbow Bridge that linked it with Midgard, the home of man.

She felt tiny and insignificant compared to the splendour she found herself facing. She carefully stood up, stretching lightly, still not sure of her balance in this extraordinary place. As she watched, details blurred and faded, only to resume their former appearance as she looked away. The explorer in her wondered what sights she would see here. The realist noted that no-one would ever believe where she'd been.

As she looked around, she realised that she had no way to get down to the worlds. She be killed for sure if she jumped. The length of rope she carried in her backpack wouldn't reach even a quarter of the way down. She sighed impatiently and paced.

A cultured female voice made her jump. "Greetings, my dear."

Lara spun around, instinctively reaching for her guns. "Now don't be silly, girl. We're not here to harm you." The voice belonged to the dead woman in the house's attic. She was dressed exactly the same, but her clothes hadn't decayed. Her face, while still pretty, was lined. Her eyes seemed tired, as if she hadn't been able to rest for far too long.

"You're Petra. I'm..." Lara hadn't forgotten her manners.

"Lady Lara Croft, Tomb Raider." Petra grimaced at the title.

Lara was bemused. "How did you know that?"

"I know many things, my dear." the ghost's tone hinted that she would say no more. "We're here to help you, as much as a spectre may."

"We?" Lara questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Justin and I, of course. We caused this, and we want to put right our wrongs so that we can rest." Justin appeared next to the woman he loved. He was dressed much like her, but his skin was wrinkled and saggy. They joined hands and reached out towards her. "Take our hands, Lara, and we get you to where you want to go." Slowly, unwillingly, she took their hands into hers. They felt dry and strangely warm. Somehow, Lara expected them to be cold.

"Close your eyes." Justin said. His voice was that of an old man, even though he was only about fifty. She did as he said.

When she opened them a mere fraction of a second later, she was standing at the foot of Yggdrasil. The ghosts where nowhere to be seen.


	7. Six

Chapter Six

"Thank you!" Lara called to empty air. It was something that she couldn't help. Years of living in the aristocracy had bred good manners into her. She couldn't help using them. A small smile twisted her mouth. If only her mother could see her now.

Walking forward carefully, she took a good look around herself. The ground that she walked on was tinted red, and she could hear a river faintly rushing in the distance. A mixture of soil and broken stone made a kind of path. She walked towards it, already trying to figure out just how she would find the fragment that she was seeking. Walking on briskly, she was forced to pick her way around boulders on the ground. Glancing up into the distance, another incredible sight met her eyes.

Rugged mountains stood high above the land, looking like weary sentries watching over all below them. Mist hovered around the peaks, making them look even more amazing. The sky behind them was crystal clear, adding a sense that she was looking at eternity. Lara wished that she could take a picture of the mountains, but she knew that she would never share this with anyone. It was a memory for only her. The masses of the world didn't deserve to see such a splendid sight. They wouldn't understand it.

She shivered as she walked, and stopping briefly, pulled a jacket out of her pack. Slipping it on, she replaced her pack, zipping the blue jacket as she walked. Feeling much warmer under the cosy fleece, she realized only then just how long she had been cold for needlessly. A shiver ran through her as her skin began to feel warm again.

"This must be Helheim." She said quietly to herself, seeing a small cluster of ghosts in the distance. The waifs hadn't spotted her and she hoped that they didn't. Helheim was home to those who had died ingloriously of disease or of old age, and if she remembered rightly, it was also home to dishonourable people who had broken oaths. Those who died in battle went elsewhere in death. They weren't the kind of ghosts she wanted to fight with. They endured enough by simply being stuck in this place. She could hear them wailing, the sound of true despair. It was haunting, and not it a good way. It drew her to them, beckoning for her to become one of the group. Resisting the desire to go over to the ghosts, she walked on, trying to be as quiet as she could.

She came to the river more quickly than she had thought she would, and was surprised to see that it was water, not blood like in the myth. The bridge to hel stood in front of her, tempting her with the easy crossing it offered. If she stepped on the bridge, even as softly as she could, it would sound like an army was marching across it. It was part of the mythology that she didn't want to test. She believe that it was true. The giant that guarded the bridge wouldn't be an easy fight for Lara to win.

Continuing past the wooden bridge, she kept walking parallel to the rushing water, only moving away to avoid ghosts. She saw no sense in fighting the spectres when she didn't have to. No easy places to get across presented themselves to her and she wondered if she should try the other way when up ahead, she spotted something that could help her. A large stone stood on the opposite side of the river, and she decided that it would be her best shot at getting across.

"I hope this works!" She muttered to herself, forming a loop in one end of the rope and throwing it across the river. It missed the rock on her first few tries, and she was forced to drag it back, through the river. The sodden rope was heavier and threw better, looping easily over the rock on her fourth try. From her bag, she pulled out a metal peg. It looked exactly like an overgrown tent peg, and she would be using it to anchor the rope for her river crossing.

Trying another loop in the rope, she stood on it while she placed the peg. It pushed into the ground surprisingly easily, and she attached the rope to the protruding hooked end. Giving the rope a good tug, she was satisfied that it would hold. Inching out over the edge, she took a good hold of the rope. It sagged under her weight, but held. Letting out a sigh, she brought both legs up, wrapping them around the rope. It took her a few moves to build up a rhythm, but once she did, she found it easy to move across her home made bridge.

A strange noise made her pause, tilting her head back to the bank she had just left. A being stood there, as still as the mountains Lara had looked at earlier. It looked like nothing she had seen before. It's flesh seemed draped over the yellow bones, almost like it had been an after thought. Vaguely human, the creature resembled a corpse left in water to decay. It seemed to be studying the rope, trying to figure out what this addition to it's world was. It moaned deeply, sounding like a sinking ship. Lara couldn't see it's hands, and for some reason, that scared her.

Unbidden, Petra's voice came into her mind. "Hurry, Lara." She whispered, the words almost like a caress.

Eyes still fixed on the creature, Lara tried to hurry. Her gloves offered little protection for her fingers and she felt the sting of rope burn more than once. The water beneath her looked deep and uninviting. Anything could lurk in those unknown depths. She had almost reached the other bank when the rope slackened and began to fall. She had no choice but to hang on and prey that she didn't land in the water.


	8. Seven

Chapter Seven

Lara groaned as she regained consciousness. The fall had hurt. She looked up to the ledge twenty feet above her and wondered what she'd broken this time. Her arms and legs seemed to work alright, and stretching lightly, she found that her ribs hurt the worst. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd broken at least one. She didn't think that she was in danger of dying from the injuries, but they would be enough to hamper her.

"Shit!" She swore vehemently. For good measure, she swore again. She forced herself to her feet, staggering pathetically for a few steps. Two falls in on job was a new record, even for her. The thought brought on a fresh wave of swearing. She uttered words so vile that would have shocked even the worst docker.

Dragging the rope out of the water, she looked at the frayed end was something close to anger. No doubt, the handy metal peg was still stuck in the bank. Frustration was building up inside of her again and she fought it down. It wouldn't do her any good to get angry. There was nothing for it but to climb out. The small beach that she was on held nothing that would help her. Pulling as hard as she could without her rib complaining, she tested the rope that had become her lifeline. It held, but that was no guarantee that there wasn't something nasty waiting up there for her.

It took her twice as long as it should have to climb up to the bank. She flopped over the edge, out of breath, raising her head to scan for danger. It didn't take much finding. A pair of the creatures stood around ten feet from her. Both of them were slowly, but steadily advancing towards her. They seemed to glide above the ground.

"Uh-oh." She said, rolling into a crouch. Her hands automatically went for her pistols. She immediately felt better when her fingers wrapped around the grips. The guns were like lucky talismans to her. It was easy to feel better with them in her hands.

Staying low, she moved away from the bank, staying on a diagonal line to the advancing trouble. With the river to one side of her, she raised her right gun, putting a round into the forehead of the closest creature. It didn't even flinch. The noise was shockingly loud. It echoed for what seemed like eternity. She was amused by that even as she assessed the situation again. If gunfire didn't slow the creatures down, then she was willing to bet hand to hand wouldn't either. Slamming the guns back into the holsters on her hips, she did what any sane person would do.

She ran straight towards the creatures. Only at the last second did she change her course, heading towards her destination. The run made her rib ache mercilessly and she was quickly panting. Dropping back into a fast walk, she turned and scanned the area behind her. Through skill or sheer luck, she had lost the creatures for now. Betting they wouldn't stay lost for long, she picked up her pace as best she could. Even in the freezing air, she was soon sweating from a combination of exertion and pain.

The built up area turned out not to be the ruins of a hut like she had first thought. It was instead a complete circle of large, jagged stones. Each tip looked to be razor sharp. They were the same shade of red as the rest of the stones. No easy way in offered itself to her.

"I guess we do it the hard way, then." She muttered to herself.


End file.
